Even my pen will park
A page before my unpublished book
And my passion of reading
No longer spark
On my brain
And my curiosity to
Explore remote shorelines
Lonesome mountains
And the caress of the dew
Cuff of the fog
Incites no more in my soul
And my chance to cross
On a road not yet
Taken is over –
Still the wind I’ve chased
Come across for life travelers
Searching of cherished dreams
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
dream...plan....work....and evaluate.....that's how a dreamer is.........